


Crazy For You

by NotANerd133



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Car Accidents, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Daddy Issues, Developing Relationship, Drama, Drinking Games, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, First Dates, Grocery Shopping, Hotels, Love Confessions, Past Relationship(s), Photography, Road Trips, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Shoplifting, Some Humor, Tags Are Hard, Target Practice, Travel, Undercover as a Couple, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Writing on the Body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotANerd133/pseuds/NotANerd133
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One trip wouldn't kill him. Or her. He hoped. -- Harley and Deadshot go on a road trip to Gotham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - I'm gonna have fun and be care free about chapter length on this one. Some may be short and some may be long. i hope y'all enjoy it!

"Don't fall in love with the moment and think you're in love with the girl."

\- Matty Healy

_ ''' _

Floyd Lawton was a simple man who wanted nothing more than to visit his daughter in Gotham City. And if that meant being stuck on the road with the infamous Harley Quinn, then so be it. It's not like this was going to happen again. One trip wouldn't kill him. Or her. He hoped.

Amanda Waller set them free. No more deadly bombs in their necks that could go off any second or Rick threatening to detonate said bombs. It was a clear path ahead from here on out. He dreamt of a place to live that wasn't illegal and didn't involve relentless hit jobs (no matter how much money he got paid) and where people didn't fear him (at least to the point where they looked just about ready to call the cops). Heading to the slums of Midway City with Harley alongside him, Floyd was determined to turn over a new leaf and be the man his ex-wife said he couldn't be. Not much of her opinion mattered, though. He's doing this for Zoe and Zoe only. Fuck Susie.

First assignment: find a vehicle. So far, the closest they've gotten to a car are the ones either crushed by rocks and debris or smashed beyond repair. Chances of leaving Midway City by foot: 100%.

Harley sashayed her hips with every step, her pigtails bouncing. If Floyd didn't know any better, he'd say she was happy. But he did. He always does.

The Joker's death wasn't a secret. Taboo, maybe, but secret it was not. Seems he wasn't the only person that couldn't discuss it either. Harley rattled on and on about meaningless shit, to him anyway, like which color to dye her hair or what stores to get another purse out of. Honestly, he wanted her to be serious. Then again, this was Harley. She was never serious.

"Floyd?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you're not talking?"

"I don't necessarily _want_ to...?"

"Are you suppose to ask me or tell me?"

"Dollface-"

"Clown."

" _What?_ "

"J called me clown."

"J's a twisted fuck."

Harley pouted. Staring at the ground, she muttered, "Whatever."

A couple minutes later and they've gotten nowhere. They're trekking on foot in awkward silence, rain starts to pour, and the streetlights go down. Funny, Floyd thinks, because he could have sworn those weren't up to begin with.

Harley suggests hitchhiking. No, he says, pride hung low above his head. There's a car, a _functional_ _car_ , around here and he'll be damned if it isn't found.

She whined, "Why can't we just walk to Gotham!"

Floyd was torn between hitting Harley with that bat of hers or whacking her with one of his guns.

_Morals. Morals. Morals._

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he explained rather pissed, "Gotham is in New Jersey. We're in Michigan. Do the math for the miles, sweetheart. Please. You're killing me right now."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "You're dramatic. I don't know how your daughter deals with you."

" _I'm_ dramatic? Since when?!"

"Umm," she tilted her head and popped her gum. Innocent, she replied. "Since you thought about hitchhiking."

"That was you," he deadpanned.

"Oh!" she tapped the side of her head. "Sorry. It was the voices again."

"You're crazy."

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she sang, "Crazy for _you…_ "

This was gonna be a long ass trip.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story! Your kudos and comments make me smile!

On the outskirts of Midway City, Harley spotted a Jeep parked on the side of the road. It was in good shape if you didn't count the chipped paint job and broken passenger seat window and missing roof. Oh, and Floyd checked for car keys in the ignition. Apparently, there were none. He was worried and for good reason.

No car keys meant someone had to hotwire the Jeep. That someone would be either him or, _oh God_ , Harley.

Don't get him wrong, he's sure the girl could hotwire a car if she wanted to, but she was insane. One mistake and they were fucked.

In an attempt to ward her off, Floyd sprinted towards the vehicle, opened the driver's door and tried starting it up.

First try: Fail.

Second try: Another fail.

Third try--

“Move, please,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. He turned to face her and she added, “You've never done this before. I can tell.”

“I got it, _dollface--_ ”

She gripped his arm again and shoved him backwards. He landed on the ground with a dull _thud_. While Harley busied herself in the front seat, Floyd stood silent in the rain, brooding.

Every now and then, the engine would purr only to shut off. He had half a mind to prove her wrong and show her what he could do, but the minute it came to life, for real this time, Floyd's hope deflated like a balloon.

Harley, amused by her handiwork, shot a goofy smile in his direction. “And you wouldn't let me near the car…”

He glared off to the side, muttered, “You got lucky, sweetheart,” and proceeded to hop in the backseat. With his head leaned against the window, Floyd asked, “You gonna drive or what?”

Harley shook her head. “Not yet.”

Sitting up, he said, “Then when?”

“Never.”

“ _Never?_ ” he found it hard to believe. Like, how could you be hyped to drive and ditch the opportunity later? Floyd waited for an answer.

The rain continued to pour. Harley’s hair clung to her face, her clothes soaking wet. She moved to rest her feet on the dashboard, but changed her mind at the last second. She stared back at him, eyes glazed with anger. The emotion was so sudden he almost wanted to leave. Almost.

Her words are tainted with disgust that anyone could recognize from a mile away. “J left me to drown once. Got rescued by Batman, _of all people_ , because I didn't know how to swim!” She took a deep breath and exhaled. She didn't say anything else, hugging herself for comfort, and he heard her sniffle.

He reached over and ran his fingers through her pale blonde hair. She doesn't move. He rubs his thumb against her cheek, not caring about the way her eyeshadow faded or how cold her skin was. Quietly, he asked, “So the reason you won't drive is because you're scared of drowning?”

“I say if you can drown in an ocean,” Harley whispered, shutting her eyes, “you can drown in the rain.”

Floyd kissed her nose. Harley opened her eyes.

She searched his face. Her gaze narrowed. “The hell did you do that for?”

Abruptly, he said, “I'll drive.”

She pulled herself away, kicked her feet up on the dash and with her arms behind her head, replied, “ _I'm_ _waiting_.”

He climbed into the driver's seat, about to hit the gas pedal, when Harley slapped his arm. Twice.

“Yes---” Floyd raised an eyebrow at Harley, who didn't hide the apparent frown settled on her lips, “---Ms. Quinzel?”

“You should call me that more often.” She jokes, but he doesn't miss the hesitation in her voice. Whatever's got her on edge has him on edge now too. She bites her lip and stares upward, the missing roof catching her attention. “Huh. That's new.”

“Harley…”

“Wearaseatbelt.”

“Pardon?”

She slapped him again. “Safety first!”

Never in a million years would he ever mistake Harley for a safety chick. Putting on the seatbelt, Floyd remarked, “You gonna be like this the whole way there?”

“Whole way where?”

Driving off the side of the road, he answers.

“Detroit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - The reason this chapter took longer to write was due to where to start it off. In the end, I got this. I hope y'all like it.

Harley ditched applying dark red lipstick in favor of helping him pick out a suit. 

“How ‘bout this one?” She held up a white and black striped suit with a red tie. 

Floyd quickly took the hanger from her and hung it back up. “No.”

“Your loss,” she said from over her shoulder, strolling into a changing stall. Once he finds a pair of jeans, a plaid flannel and some retro kicks, he's off to the stall beside hers. Harley, hearing him lock his door, comments, “Whatcha hiding, Shot?”

Taking off his tattered, tight spandex suit, Floyd told her, “Nothing, dollface.”

While he unfolded the jeans, standing in his boxers, he felt bare arms clutch his neck and in less than a minute, Floyd had pinned Harley against the wall. There were no mirrors in here, but he should have guessed she'd crawl under the barrier to pull this type of shit. Also, where the fuck were her clothes?

Arms above her head, bra elevating her breasts perfectly (and Floyd wasn't gonna look below, past her stomach, for obvious reasons), she grinned. “I was right. You  _ were  _ hiding something from me!” The tone in her voice makes him realize she's just being playful, so he let's her go. 

“I ain't hiding shit.”

“Then where's your tattoo?” 

He stared at her.

“Your Zoe tattoo?”

It never occurred to him that in midst of their shoplifting spree Harley would ask him that question. 

“I don't need a tattoo,” he says, going back to slipping on his jeans. He feels her fingertips skimming along his back rather affectionately. He twitches. “Cut that shit out, Quinn.”

The motions stop. She grabs the flannel and tries it on. Hands on her hips, she asks, “How do I look?” He takes a step closer and she adds, “Don't do it.”

Floyd decides to play dumb. Disobeying her orders, he said, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'm serious!”

They lock eyes. Confident, he lightly brushed his thumb against her collarbone. She hummed. He wanted to pull off her bra strap, and believe him, he would, but froze at the purplish bruises he failed to notice earlier. They stood striking on her pale, white skin. His gaze traveled further down and caught sight of more bruises, some green and sickly yellow. Her eyes were shut, mouth ajar. Floyd wished he was better at being gentle.

“Tell me when,” he whispered, lips warm on the shell of her ear. 

Harley hisses; it's not from him touching her. He knows. 

_ (It works both ways.) _

She tests the water with him. “I fucked up.” She rests her forehead on his. “ _ I fucked up so bad _ .” She's a strong enough person to not choke on her words. 

He doesn't remember how he got her dressed in her stall, where he kissed her mouth because she wouldn't stop crying ( _ It's fine _ , she says.  _ I'm immune to it, _ she says.) But the real mystery is why she let him.

In the car, on the way to the hotel, she said, “We'll get you one.”

As he turned to look at her, Harley was hanging out the window, arms folded and pigtails blowing in the wind.

  
Floyd doesn't ask what she meant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I love responding to your reviews! Leave a comment! It makes me smile :-)

“Do you think I'm pretty?”

They're sharing a bed in a hotel room. It's midnight. Earlier, they stuffed themselves full with fancy cake slices and ice cream sundaes (her idea, not his). Now, Harley is under the blankets, her front pressed to Floyd. Her hair is down, wet, sticking to her forehead. He remembers her sitting on the police car in the rain, a fake smile plastered on her smooth features. Here, with his arm holding her so close he can smell her scent and them both teetering on the edge of sleep, she is real; serene, tranquil, and genuinely _real_.

Face pressed into the side of her neck, he mumbles, “I call you dollface, don't I?”

“Mmm,” she responds, gripping his head. “You're kinda pretty, too.”

“Yeah?”

She pushes him away. He waited.

“You're kinda pretty. For a _boy_.”

“Boy?” he scoffed. “I don't know what you've been told, but I'm a man.”

She changes the subject, hugging her pillow. “I need hair dye.” Harley forms a smile, eyes bright despite the dim lighting given off by the nightstand lamp. “Whaddaya think?”

“Listen,” Floyd begins, sitting up so he can lean against the headboard, “I love your hair just the way it is. And I'm not just saying that because I don't care. I mean, well, I actually _don't care_ , but just this once, since it means so much to you, I'll try to give a shit.”  

The expression on her face is a mix between happy and confused. “Um, okay then.”

“Was it something I said?”

“Nope.” Harley snuggles into her pillow and yawns. Gaze drifting off, she whispers, “You cared. That's good, Shot.”

He isn't sure what they have, if it'll last or if it'll die once they reach Gotham. She'll go her own way and him his. But there's a small of him part that hopes this isn't a fling and he means a lot to her.

Shit.

_She means a lot to him._

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, staring up at the ceiling.

What was he getting himself into?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments! Love y'all!

He likes her. 

He likes when she rolls her eyes at his stupid jokes. He likes when she sways her hips to music only she can hear. He likes that look of wonder that passes her face every time she discovers something new. He likes her when she's careless and free.

He loves her.

He loves when she wakes up before him and the first thing she does is steal cooking supplies from the hotel kitchen and make a meal all her own. He admits it wasn't the best, but he appreciates the favor; no one put so much effort into making sure he's happy except his daughter. He loves when she's honest about his gunmanship skills ( _ I can shoot ten times better than you, Shot _ ) and his parenting skills ( _ Comparing acute angles to how far you can aim your gun when taking out a target is a very bad example _ ). He loves when she sings like she's had too many drinks and pulls him in for a kiss and giggles from enjoying him too much. He loves when she's rough and not afraid to speak her mind. 

They check out the hotel after a week. They're not on a schedule but he feels disappointed in himself. Harley assures him it's fine and doesn't call shotgun. She drives. The real shock is when she turns out to be good at it.

Until she crashes into a ditch.

Despite the fact that there's a line of blood dripping from her forehead, Harley manages to remain calm. He shrugs off the feeling that he should be concerned. She's been through worse, he knows.

He feels okay. He feels sublime. He feels perfect. He feels the ground fall from underneath his feet. He feels her hands touch his face. He feels her lips kiss his mouth. He feels her voice vibrate into his chest. 

He feels the darkness and lets everything go. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I love how this chapter turned out. I hope y'all do too!

_If you scare me like that again, I'm gonna kick your ass, Floyd!_

_I said I'm sorry, Quinn. Relax._

She bites her lip, gives him a meaningful stare, and shoves her chair back so hard it knocks onto the wooden floor. He's surprised she doesn't break the door with her kind of strength. He's left alone to ponder a few things.

Where was he? More important -- how did he get to here? Where was _here_?

Thinking hurt. Thinking complicated thoughts hurt.

He hopes she's not holding any grudges against him. That would be plain cruel.

Harley comes back, hopes onto the mattress beside him. She leans on her elbow and hesitates for a moment. Worry flickers across her face and Floyd tilts his head and meets her lips halfway.

She tastes like blood and sweat and tears. She leaves, but remarks, “I'm never gonna call you, Puddin’, alright? I just can't.”

His throat is dry. He needs water.

She skirts the line between upset and happy and he decides he likes her better when she's annoying him. He should feel like shit for feeling this way, but he's never been the comforter in a relationship. Wait, what were they again? Could he even say that?

It strikes him later, as she's giving him a glass of water and some painkillers, why Harley said what she did.

“You thought I--” Floyd stopped, hating how tired he sounded. Clearing his throat, he started again, and the look she gave him was terrifying. “You thought I was dead, didn't you?”

“I hate you!” Harley wasn't pouting, nor was her tone amused. She sounded angry at him. It troubled him, really. “I fucking hate you.”

He wants to take what he said back and fall asleep and dream peacefully. The chances of that happening are long gone. He messed up. Again. Floyd thinks he would have been better off without her here. He would look after himself. If he got hurt, he got hurt. If he got into any problems, he could solve them alone. Harley is a wildcard, a risk in the field. Last night it was charming. Now? Not so much.

He's clueless about women. Always has been. But he knows her well. Harley may be crazy but she isn't stupid. He knew that for a fact when he noticed the type of pistol she had -- a Chiappa Rhino 60DS -- which was perfect for beginner gun users. Like he said, crazy but never stupid.

“You don't mean it.” The effect of the pills finally begins to settle into his system. “I doubt you…” He feels his eyes droop, Harley's face blurring in and out of focus.

He's lucky to have heard her leave rather than see her _._

***

When he wakes, drenched in cold ass water and gasping for air, Harley is standing above him, the brightest smile he's ever seen her wear making her seem even more childish.

“Rise and shine asshole!” Harley shouts, a silver bucket held between her right arm and her hip. “We're shooting today!”

Floyd scopes the room; its burnt walls and rotten wood floors and decaying structure are enough for him to realize they're in the slums. There's a window covered by a yellow curtain. Despite his current sense of drowsiness, Floyd hops out the bed and runs over towards it. Skies a dark blue and light pink, he surmises it's dawn. She woke him up _at dawn_.

“Oh hell no.”

She admires the view along side him. She's less upset than she was yesterday and sounds oddly optimistic. “Oh hell _yes_.”

If looks could kill, she'd be dead already.


	7. Chapter 7

While he was sleeping, Harley went out and got a little too carried away when trying to score a good deal on a pistol. She didn't go into any specific details but he came to the conclusion that it involved her baseball bat and a drug dealer's body being used as a punching bag.

Floyd loved her badassery. It suited her.

But every now and then, he couldn't help how his thoughts wandered into unknown territory. Well, _not_ unknown. Everyone knew. They just never had the audacity to be upfront about it. He wasn't an upfront person yet for her he'd drop his act. He cares, goddammit. _He cares_.

Sitting cross legged atop a RV trailer roof, Harley chided, "Make me remember why they call you Deadshot."

He stared at her.

She sighed, handing him a Glock 47. "I also set targets for you to shoot while you were out like a light. Wasn't too difficult." She glanced out towards the rows of trailers, eyes squinting into the distance. "Can you see 'em? I hope you see 'em."

He's touched. If they were normal people, he would kiss her good and slow and this trip would be never ending.

Reality is a bitch.

The targets were easy to remove. It wasn't a challenge. The gun felt strange in his grip. He itched to toss it down below. He lived for moments like these, just him and a gun and nothing but the sound of gunfire. He still enjoyed it; maybe less so now, but all the same. Maybe she was the reason. He kept calculating his moves and walking on eggshells and felt shitty if he was offensive. He hated it, hated how in such a short amount of time she managed to change him.

( _Floyd can't hate her, though. He couldn't.)_

"Harley?" he sat beside her, placing the gun far away from him, near the edge of the RV.

"What?" she replied, biting her nails. It was obvious something was troubling her.

"You always go back," he said. When she didn't answer, Floyd said, "I don't get it. What you see in him, I mean. I'm not saying it's a bad thing-"

Harley sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, he supposed. The look she threw him was one of accusatory. "You are. That's exactly what you're saying. That's what everyone keeps saying."

Misery struck him and it struck him good. "Dollface-"

"No!" Harley was a raging ball of fury. "I'm gonna be real with you, okay? _I. Am. Not. A. Victim_."

He's had enough of her sugary bullshit to be honest. If she's truthful, then he could be truthful too.

Floyd places a hand on her shoulder, head bent down close to her face as if there were other people around them, like they were together in their own little bubble. "Harley, you might have loved him, but he didn't give two shits about you. Tell me what the fuck happened on the helicopter that gave you a different idea."

Her voice is above a whisper. "He isn't dead. No use in speakin' like he is. And for your information, Floyd, he pushed me out the helicopter to save me. He _saved_ me."

The Joker wasn't dead? Floyd didn't trust it for a goddamn minute. "Joker's gone. Waller said so."

"And I guess you believed her when she said the same thing about me, huh?"

He glared. He found it difficult to hide his anger. It took everything he had to keep his emotions under wraps. "Those were two completely different situations. He's not you. We're in a group. When you get harmed, we call it a loss. You know that. Also, in case you've forgotten, he only looks out for himself. So what you thought was an act of... _heroism_ ," he put quotes around the word heroism, talking to her the same way he would talk to Zoe, "was just him trying to kill you."

She gasped, removing his hand off her like he was poisonous. "J loves me! He wouldn't kill his best girl!" Harley turned away and he got the impression that he shut her down completely. "I know what's he's capable of and if he can get away with faking his death, he can. He's out here somewhere. I know it. _I feel him_.

"You shouldn't listen to rumors, Floydy," she said, letting out a cackle.

Strange couldn't describe her in that moment. Upon closer inspection, Floyd saw her sunken eyes and how sheen her skin was. But he didn't let it show on his features. If she wasn't alright, he figures she would mention the details on her own time. Until then, he would keep his worries at bay. People like Harley didn't need people like him frantic over her condition.

( _But he watches her just in case. Because that's what friends do. What friends that kiss do. What friends that hug do. What friends that love each other do._ )

Floyd can't miss her limp as she rushes to stand. Harley shrugs it off. It's nothing. It's always nothing with her.

She says, "I got my fair share of hits too, so don't you worry 'bout me."

Harley jumps off the roof.

Floyd doesn't bother going after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys like how this story is going so far? Is the pacing slow? Are Harley and Floyd in character? I'd love to hear what y'all think. If it can help me improve my writing, let me know. Anyways, I hope y'all have a good day!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late. Oops. I recommend reading the previous chapter if you forgot where we left off. Next update will either be this week or weekend. Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all the best readers ever!

Springs poke into his body, him tossing and turning on the mattress before he gives up, mumbles a grumpy, “Fuck it,” and storms out the house.

He hasn't seen Harley since she bailed this morning. Though Floyd enjoyed time alone, her disappearance was really beginning to nag at him. What he told her was the truth; the Joker didn't care for her. He wishes someone would have given him advice about his ex-wife long after they became acquainted and had a kid and shit. But he didn't have anyone. So, Floyd being the obviously good friend that he was, thought he might as well lead Harley in the right direction.

( _The right direction wasn't him, by the way. He should be. But he isn't. He's okay with that. Kind of. Maybe._ )

He's inadequate.

Yeah, Harley deserves the world, but he knows damn well it's not with him. He's a killer. You don't build that type of reputation and shred it in a day. Takes months. Years. Centuries even. It's embedded on his skin.  His hands have dripped blood, his knuckles battered. That's not to say Harley hasn't done any damage either, but somehow he thinks it's an entirely different story.

The thing is, they all chose to become the way they are now. They had a choice and made due with what they had. But Harley didn't. Her choice was taken away. She was manipulated and they can't get her back. Harleen Quinzel can never come back.

He's terrified.

Because while he's resting on the porch steps, Harley approaches him, a somber expression on her face.

“Hey,” she says, exhausted.

Floyd pats the space next to him. She complies.

He stares at her out the corner of his eye. For some odd reason, Harley's wearing a silky red gown and high heels. He didn't question her, wondering why she seemed so down.

Fiddling with her thumbs, she said, “I went grocery shopping.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “And how'd that go?”

Harley frowned. “I saw a couple. I don't think they were very happy. I mean, people fight all the time in public. It's...what's the word? When something is normal somewhere?”

“Commonplace?”

“Yeah, commonplace,” she confirmed. She turned to him. “Those people had a baby. A cute, adorable baby, Floyd. I always wanted children…”

“Quinn--”

“We can't get everything we want in life, you know? Kids aren't for everyone. Kids aren't for me. Tried having ‘em once and the doctor said I couldn't. J bought me gifts and showered me with money and treated me so damn well. But the doctor said no, you can't have children. J said I wasn't good enough to carry his child anyway. He said, _You? Raising a child? Stop humoring me, darling._ But I hadn't meant it as a joke. I was serious and being serious is hard. Serious? Me? What was I thinking?”

Floyd couldn't touch her. She was reeling from a bad experience. Besides, he would only make it worse. He kept quiet. Watched her, but kept quiet.

Suddenly, Harley cried. There wasn't no rain to shield her tears. “I almost,” she held herself, “I almost took their baby. I wanted them. I...I _needed_ them. I must've followed that family for the longest time before I remembered you.”

He's terrified.

Harley is crying and his heart is lodged in his throat and he can't understand what he's feeling because he's never felt like this. He looks at her and wants to kiss her forever and hold her and love her and tell her it's okay.

Was that normal?

Floyd shifts as close as he can to her. “What about me did you remember?”

Harley sniffles. “Well,” she begins, a small smile on her lips. “I remembered you loved me.”

 _I remembered you loved me_ , she says. He never said it out loud before. He's thought about saying it plenty of times but the timing is never right. He does undoubtedly love her. Terribly, _terribly_ so.

He's surprised Harley noticed.

( _He tries not to think about what that means for the both of them._ )

“Harley?”

She wipes her eyes with her arm; they're still blotchy and red. Dreamily, she asked, “Yeah?”

Floyd resists the urge to kiss her. She needs more than a kiss. Love is more than a kiss.

He held her chin between his fingers, eyes never leaving hers. “I never stopped loving you. Children or not, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” Floyd makes the mistake of trailing his gaze down to her lips.

Harley moves in to kiss him and he shakes his head, gently pushing her away.

“Why not?” she asks, and he feels like shit for making her sad. “You love me, don't you?”

The fact that she's associated physical contact with love irks him.

“We haven't went on a date yet,” he says, and technically it's not a lie; they make out and hug but they haven't actually done anything as a couple. “Besides, ain't we goin’ somewhere now?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

He gestured to her dress.

“Oh! Yeah, we are. If you want to…?”

He shrugs. “Fine with me. Who's throwing the party?”

“Ivy.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” she repeated. “What do you mean by that?”

Floyd and Ivy were good friends. Last he heard of her, she was serving a prison sentence of five years for armed robbery. Something to do with plants and shit. He's glad to hear she's out. Technically speaking. But why she's all the way here is the part that's really confusing him.

“How'd you meet her? Ivy, I mean.”

Harley's face lit up at the question. “A diamond heist. I forgot what she was getting but I was looking for a diamond. I never told you about it, did I? My bad. Wanna hear the story?”

Wasn't the response he asked for but she was so happy he couldn't correct her. “Maybe later, dollface.”

“Suit yourself,” she says, pushing herself off the steps. She stood and held out her hand. “Ready?”

He didn't hesitate.


	9. Chapter 9

Under the flashing lights and pulsing baselines, Harley is a star.

(Not just a star. _His_ star.)

Damn. He's sappy now.

But Harley does shine. In a sea of black and white, she's red. Floyd stays close to the bar like he's strung on alcohol. One step on the dance floor and he knows he'll never leave.

(Harley's danced with several guys in the past hour and they gawk at her and it's seriously pissing him off that they don't appreciate how lovely she is as a person, dammit. The woman could talk for hours on end if you let her.)

Anyway, Pamela has taken an extreme interest in him, has been studying his every move since he walked in with Harley hanging off his arm. She didn't appear to be envious, not even a little bit. He figured she was probably gonna give her two cents later on tonight. It only seemed correct given Harley's previous encounters with her. All that shit about the diamonds and the dinner dates and the whole temporary roommate thing didn't faze him. At least, not exactly.

You see, Pam was very obvious about her feelings. What was hers stayed hers and any threats to what she claimed could be easily handled. But, he was Floyd Lawton. Floyd Lawton doesn't take anybody's bullshit. Surely, she was thinking of multiple ways to approach him where she didn't feel the need to poison him.

They could be civil.

Possibly.

Maybe.

Floyd was about to ask for another shot of tequila when Pamela slid into his personal space. She reeked of mint and flowery perfume -- so much so that Floyd inhaled from his mouth and not his nose.

“Just how long did you think you could ignore me for, Lawton?”

Floyd looked her straight in the eyes and said, “I'm sorry, Pam, but--correct me if I'm wrong--didn't you have an accident last night? Harley mentioned it to me. It would be a real shame if the cops came to arrest your shady ass, dontcha think?”

That stunned her. Quickly, she schooled her features. She spoke politely and he smirked. “Yes, Lawton, it would be a real shame indeed. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Your welcome.”

The bartender came with his drink. Floyd thanked him. Just then, Pamela snatched the glass and drank it all. He pretends not to care. A drink is a drink. About to look out to the floor for Harley, Pamela grabbed his chin.

He prays to God whatever she says won't piss him off.

“ _Harley is not yours_ ,” she says, nails pinching his skin. Her gaze turns soft once she lays her eyes on Harley. “She isn't mine either.” Pamela advises him. “You know he'll find out. What's the harm in letting her stay?”

He had to face the music. The Joker was alive and once word spread, their trip would be done.

(But he held on. He wouldn't let him get her. Not again. Not this time.)

He shoved Pamela off of him.

She lost her balance, knocking into a stool, hitting the floor in an instant. Aghast, she took a moment to stand. Around them, everything stopped and everyone stared and Pamela’s entourage soon surrounded her, frantic.

Floyd had his fists at his sides. He didn't wanna be _that_ guy; the guy that hit girls; the guy that was mad about nothing; the guy that got jealous. It's as if all he knew was slipping away…

Is it wrong that he wanted this? A chance with Harley no matter how confused he was? They weren't perfect, but who is? And a run in with _him_ meant a punishment for his daughter. He could harm her if he wanted to, get somebody else involved--

“Floyd!” Harley's voice is far and as gone as his mind.

He loves her.

( _He loves her so much he runs;_ _past the crowd, past the hurt, past her, past life._ )

Harley was right. He is a pussy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. School keeps me busy and most days I don't write because of it. Updates will be slow, unfortunately.


	10. Chapter 10

It occurs to her in the middle of the night, a fleeting feeling in her soul. She could waste her time crying or go out and make a difference. That wasn't crazy, right? She was worried. Worried and concerned. More worried and concerned than she'd ever been in her whole life.

She lolled her head to the side and found herself face to face with her reflection in a mirror. The mirror was a bit cracked and chipped. Her image was distorted, but in the best way possible. Makeup patched her skin; she was very red in her cheeks; empty in the eyes; hair patted down in some places and sticking up in others. She frowned. She must've fallen asleep. It wouldn't be the first time.

The first time she'd fallen asleep had been an accident. She just wanted to eavesdrop for the hell of it. The Joker kept his business private and hated disclosing personal information to her. But she held a glass cup to one end of their living room door and heard many things. But then she got bored and everything went blank for longer than she expected.

She awoke to _him_ scowling at her for her bad behavior. He forced her to watch his favorite movie. It might not have been so bad if the movie didn't give her the creeps. You see, on the screen, a guy wanted to torture his victims by way of burning them. The victims had to be burned to a crisp. And she watched them, oh she watched them, until her eyes stayed shut and _he_ mumbled threats into her ear while stroking her cheek. She was crying and had to cut it out. He despised her the most when she cried.

The memory made her heart break. Maybe Floyd was right. Maybe Puddin’ wasn't as crazy about her as she was about him. But she knew it in the pit of her stomach that he was out there, somewhere, waiting. He never had the patience to wait on her.

Paranoid. Floyd thought her paranoid. She wasn't. Looney she could take credit for, but paranoid? Ha ha. That's a good one.

Lifting her head off the vanity, Harley took note of her surroundings. Apparently, Ivy came by to check on her multiple times. Items were switched around and the guest bed was neater and the door was closed. Yawning, she got up and walked barefoot across the wooden floors to exit the room.

The hallways were so bright she almost fell over. With one eye opened and the other squinted, Harley marched down the hall, a very good example of a prom night gone horribly wrong.

 _Why would he really abandon me_ , she thought to herself, _if he loved me?_

The kitchen was occupied with a certain redhead. This time, she wore floral green pajamas instead of a lousy ass dress.

Ivy watched Harley the way a predator watched its prey. Of course, Harley ignored the terrible feeling that came in situations like this. It was nothing. Had to be nothing. After all, she _was_ insane.

“I imagined you slept well,” Ivy said. She handed Harley a glass. Harley inspected it, seeing an orangey liquid floating inside. It smelled...funny.

“I slept good, yeah. How ‘bout you?” Harley threw the drink elsewhere. She remained impassive to Ivy’s noticeable cringe. “Or did you do something when I was sleeping?”

“Oh, I did something alright. You won't like it, though.”

Harley scratched her head. “What's that suppose ta mean? What did you do?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Oh please. As if you care what I do.”

“Ivy…”

“Fine,” she said, standing in front of Harley. She managed to say, “I had a little run-in with your friend earlier. Well, not exactly _earlier_. More like before he left--”

Harley grabbed a hold of Ivy’s shoulders. She sounded mad screaming, “What did you say?! What happened?!”

Ivy shook Harley off of her. Fixing her clothes, she answered, “We thought it best you stay with me. Cancel whatever plans you two had. I mean, another week won't kill you, will it?”

Harley was at a loss for words. All those days on the road and them falling in love and her wanting him and him wanting her...Was it all a lie? Was he just using her? And why now? What changed? Was it her? Did she ruin what they had? Did they even have anything?

Harley didn't notice she collapsed until she felt limp arms wrap themselves around her small frame. Ivy soothed her, or at the very least tried to.

“It's okay, child. You have me now. Forgot him…”

But that's the thing about Floyd.

He's someone she can't forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I had a difficult time writing this chapter as you can tell by the late update lol. What do you guys think? Do you like the direction the story is going in? I'm gonna be busier due to school so I don't know when the next update will be but I'll make sure it's the best ever!


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